


Eurus' little song

by Smauglicious



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Flashbacks, Gen, Post-The Final Problem, Songfic, The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:52:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smauglicious/pseuds/Smauglicious
Summary: A look into how Sherlock dealt with the aftermath of Victor's absence.Coupled with Eurus' little funny song that she loves to sing.Deep down below the old beech tree~!





	

"Victor's missing. " Hushed whispers in the night as Mummy and Father argued yet again. It had been three days since Victor disappeared, three days since Eurus smiled silly, three days since she sang the same song over and over.

Another day, another silence.

 

_I that am lost, oh who will find me?_

_Deep down below the old beech tree._

 

Sherlock sang softly to himself as he curled up in his own bed, his mind grasping and struggling to get a hold on the song. 

"I that am lost. " 

He whispered, screwing his eyes shut as he tightened round himself. His blanket the only salvation that he has on the small pirate bed. 

"Oh who will find me? " 

Tears threatened to overspill as he continued, his voice wavering and gone with the wind, into and around the confiding room. 

"Deep down below. " 

His scrawny hands scraped against his head as he hiccupped, his nails digging into his hair and pulling at the sensitive strands. 

"Deep down below. "

He repeated, tears flowing down his face as his eyes snapped open, staring at seemingly nothing as he continued muttering softly, broken. A plea for help. 

"Deep down below. "

 

_Help succour me now the east winds blow._

_Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go!_

 

Sherlock walked round the areas of his house. Sixteen by six. Land. He sneaked out of the silent house, into the forest we go. 

"Victor. " He whispered hushed. 

"Victor! "

Night comes, Sherlock was still running. His eyes now swollen and puffy from the tears, knees scraped, bleeding. His voice sore and weak, his face smudged with dirt, shirt drenched with sweat. He was lost, victor was lost. Eurus was going to kill him, his little mind tutted. Eurus was going to kill him next. 

"Victor! Victor! " 

Sherlock shouted, now more desperately. He wiped his tears away brashly with his arm. 

"Victor... Please... " 

Sherlock crumpled down, his arms wrapping round his legs as he buried his face into them. He wailed.

 

_Without your love, he’ll be gone before._

_Save pity for strangers, show love the door._

 

"Found you. " 

Mycroft whispered exhausted as he stood in the middle of the forest. He bent down as he faced Sherlock, his arms extending as he wrapped it round Sherlock's small frame. He rubbed Sherlock's back soothingly as Sherlock buried his head into the crook of Mycroft's neck, sniffling as he reached out to scrunch Mycroft's clothes into a fist. 

"Sherlock. " 

Mycroft sighed as he carried Sherlock up and into his arms. 

"Mummy's worried. " 

Mycroft whispered as they walked back, the rhythmic steps lulling Sherlock to sleep as his eyes drooped slowly. 

"You're shivering. "

Mycroft muttering was the last thing he heard before sleep overcame him.

 

_My soul seeks the shade of my willow’s bloom_

 

The police came by and smiled. They were checking to see if they were suspects, if they, if they were the ones. To make Victor went missing. They sat Sherlock down and gave him little waves and silly questions. 

Sherlock stared and stared and stared. 

He stared at them with his blank eyes as they asked about victor. They stopped not long after, worried, creeped out, spooked. Mummy pulled him away as she smiled at them apologetically, facing Sherlock again. 

"Sherlock, are you okay? "

Mummy's eyebrows knitted together as she squeezed Sherlock's shoulder comfortingly. Sherlock stayed silent.

_Inside, brother mine-_

_Let Death make a room._

 

Death - the action or fact of dying or being killed, the end of the life of a person or organism. 

People had been whispering, casting pitiful glances at Sherlock. Death they said. Death had claimed his Redbeard. It has only been a week or two. Why were they jumping to conclusions?

 

_Be not afraid to walk in the shade._

_Save one, save all, come try!_

 

"He's stopped talking. I worry for him. " 

More hushed whispers. 

Eurus' smile searing into his mind as he sat on the swing, frightened to get off it. Eurus was running round him with the tiny sword that he had made as she sang the song again, her laughter shrill as she ran around, flinging the sword around and at him. 

"Drowned Redbeard, drowned Redbeard, off he went and plopped into the sea~! " 

He stayed on the swing.

 

_My steps - five by seven_

_Life is closer to Heaven-_

 

"I'm sorry Sherlock. "

They sat him down and took hold of his hands in theirs. 

"They can't find him. "

 

_Look down, with dark gaze, from on high…_

 

Pages and pages of drawings as Eurus sat in her room, humming as she crossed out the faces of Sherlock as she scribbled it away with her crayons. 

"Dead, dead, over! " 

She whispered as she smiled, adding another gravestone into her picture.

 

_Before he was gone - right back over my hill._

_Who now will find him?_

 

Screaming. Fire. His house was set on fire. Thick black smoke covered the house and wafted into his nose, filling his lungs full. Sherlock tried coughing, he choked, he sucked in more smoke. He clawed as he looked around, no one. 

No one was there. 

His face crumpled in defeat, Sherlock didn't want to die. His eyes watered as he fell to the ground.

_Why, nobody will._

 

He laid on the floor, his vision blurring and darkening as he took small weak inhales of the thick black smoke. It was getting harder.

Breathing was getting boring.

Sherlock stopped and slept.

 

_Doom shall I bring to him, I that am queen._

 

The whirling of the machines woke him up as he peeked his eyes open. If something was missing from his heart and soul, he didn't mention it. Sherlock clung to Mycroft.

He never mentioned Victor again. Or his sister at that.

They were glad.

 

_Lost here forever, nine by nineteen._

 

Cold dread filled his system.

A horrified whisper.

"You killed my best friend. "

**Author's Note:**

> It was just a short little fic that I wrote with the club prompt: Holmes' childhood.  
> Hope you enjoy!  
> And did you get the reference(?)  
> Breathing is boring!


End file.
